Alarm Clock
by FearlessTiger
Summary: She is volunteering as a medic in a town forgotten by God. The clock ticks and ticks her days away, because she is not welcome in the darkness of its excruciating reign, but innocence is nothing if not deceitful: and, until the alarm clock shrieks, the seconds of her life will be counted patiently: tick tock, tick tock. AU, rated M for a reason.


**AN: Hello! I wrote this back in summer, actually, for a horror story competition on a forum – the admins never got to checking any of the submissions out for some reason, but I put loads of work into this creepy little thing and I decided to publish it when I came across it today.**

**The canon verse is completely irrelevant to the story, and I can say I merely borrowed names and characters for it – as I said, the prompt was writing the best horror story, not necessarily keeping the action related to the anime/manga/whatever. I will tell you that you may need to read this a couple times if you want to understand it fully, and you may even need to know some literary theory, because in the hours I spent working on this baby, I introduced plenty of concepts and subliminal messages to keep you interested. Just saying. xD**

_**Do read!**_

**As it is, however, **_**please proceed with caution. **_**While I worked for good hours on the symbolism, the character types, the literary motifs etc, this story is for mature eyes only, as it contains **_**descriptive violence, gore and character death. **_**I do not want to hear reclamations pertaining to the themes used in the story, unless they're in the form of constructive criticism. You have been warned.**

**For those of you who like seeing our favorite characters featuring in gory horror stories, please enjoy!**

_**Disclaimer: The names and characters that appear in this story belong to the wonderful Masashi Kishimoto.**_

_**Alarm Clock**_

When Haruno Sakura moves into a new city, the first things that attract her attention are the stares. From the moment she passes through the frozen, iron gates that support a dangling wooden street sign that reads 'Welcome to Konoha' in faded black letters, she only receives empty, pitiful and highly unnerving stares as greetings from the passersby. The thirty year old woman only smiles at her new neighbors as she easily carries her heavy luggage, having already been warned of the eerily somber atmosphere this forgotten urban region casts upon its citizens and few visitors alike.

She looks at the dark gray, mostly faded paint on the four storey buildings that seem to be barely fitted for housing inhabitants and frowns in resigned understanding. The visible holes and burns in the brick walls tell stories of a bitter war and painful losses, and Sakura clutches the red spiral symbol on her white shirt, determined to make her decision of leaving her childhood home and traveling to nowhere with the purpose of fixing what has been broken decidedly impossible to regret.

Although five years have passed since the gruesome finale of a corrupted battle, too many people are still in need of aid – due to the unexpected and unforgivable advance in technology, repairing destroyed water conducts is incredibly difficult (if not entirely unattainable) because of all the unidentified gazes and poisons lurking in the underground; floods and landslides occur on a daily basis, ending countless lives and possibilities; traumatized victims have lost any and all hope of returning to normalcy.

As she waits for her expected escort on the stone-made curb of a completely abandoned street, her deep verdant orbs connect with the smog of what once was a clear blue sky and she glares heatedly, leaning back on the shattered door of a telephone cabin and daring whatever cursed entity that desires suffering so badly to plague her mission of undoing its wrongs.

Behind her, inside the ruined cabin, a seemingly broken clock starts ticking.

''You must be Haruno Sakura,'' the deep voice of a male urges her to instinctually assume a straight position and glance to her left. The rosette is not startled to see a tall, mysterious silver-haired man eyeing her rather cautiously with his one visible eye, the rest of his face covered by a charcoal black mask. The entirety of his attire consists of modest cotton and denim raven clothes that look intimidating on his already imposing, broad silhouette. There is no doubt in Sakura's mind that he is the person meant to intercept her.

Her innate cheerfulness prods her to smile brightly and nod. She wants to make at least a fair bit of conversation to gain the familiarity needed to accommodate in such a place, but he only turns around sharply at having received her confirmation, not even offering to help her carry the multiple bags she has placed on her back and shoulders.

''Follow me,'' is his curt demand, after which he begins walking at a neither slow, nor fast pace, focusing his attention on what appears to be a tattered book and ignoring her existence wholly.

Sakura feels reasonably discouraged by her escort's blatant disregard of primordial courtesy, but she scolds herself for her witless expectations almost immediately. It is likely that a human who has lived in a painfully colorless environment for what she suspects to be years would behave in a deeply unfriendly and austere manner. She sighs inwardly as she keeps a safe distance from the mysterious individual, guessing that she will have to become accustomed to this kind of treatment sooner or later.

Aside from their soft steps on the damp, cracked pavement, their journey is eerily quiet and Sakura takes the abundant amount of time to further examine her new home. Her silent companion is leading the way through a slim passage between two apparently very old buildings and the soft hairs on the rosette's arms stand on end as a consequence of her growing sense of peculiarly strong anxiety.

Unexpected howls of laughter suddenly erupt from behind a wooden door and the volunteer medic curiously inches closer, wondering if this city perhaps isn't as sinister as she initially deemed it.

She is absolutely shocked when the door is abruptly kicked off its hinges and a freshly severed head rolls down the steps to rest at her feet.

Sakura shrieks before she can even think, and looks at the revealed grim hallway with wide, frightened eyes, falling to her knees and desperately trying to keep her gaze off the eyeless head of a now dead woman. The laughter dies once she screams and several crouched, shadowed figures emerge from the corridor, descending to her level in a heap of limbs that briefly reminds her of lizards.

She panics thunderously and feels the contents of her stomach rising to her throat. Then, her entire weight is roughly pulled and dragged away, until she feels the harsh pavement on her pale skin and she begins vomiting and crying in a miserable agglomeration of trembling flesh.

When the woman finally has the courage to look up, she sees her ominously unperturbed escort reading his book, the only evidence of having moved both of them to a relatively safe location being the slight irregularity of his breathing.

''Wh-wha…?'' Sakura manages through a sob, overwhelmed by the display of both physical and emotional inhumanity she unwillingly just witnessed. In all her seven years of medical activity, she has never felt so scared of what she truly hoped is a terrible, terrible disease.

The man eyes her somewhat understandingly and shrugs, placing his small book back in his pocket. He doesn't bother to comfort or help the traumatized medic, but he dignifies her almost incoherent question with a calm, unimpressed response.

''It's why you need an escort in the first place,'' he shrugs, briefly checking the new perimeter that consists of a barely lit alley where, apparently, the residents of the two buildings uncaringly throw their garbage in sickeningly high loads. ''Did you believe that all the poisons thrown in here had no effect on some individuals' psyche and anatomy?''

His tone is condescending and Sakura looks powerfully struck by what certainly is a terrible realization.

This is what she has sworn to heal and protect for the rest of her life.

This is her choice: being haunted by the dead and those whose fates are much, much worse.

The silver-haired man eventually lends her his hand to help her back into a standing position. Her scared, dull eyes meet the ticking watch on his wrist as he pulls her up.

Their journey continues silently, neither speaking about the cruel incident again, because, for one of them, it is the mildest of the usual occurrences and for the other, it is a fact she must learn to live with, for the sake of her organization and her own self-respect. She is not going to pull back. She is an experienced professional, who acted as a field medic during the war. She has seen much worse.

''We are here, Haruno,'' her escort unexpectedly announces, his visible eye trained on a fairly solid brick house at the far end of the street they have followed until now. The unpainted building is split in two by a charcoal black line and Sakura realizes the undoubtedly unfinished house is a duplex.

They wordlessly enter the minuscule garden on the left side by crouching underneath a fence of steel thorns and Sakura's intuition immediately flares in warning as she reluctantly looks at the failure of her new home's exterior: earth thrown onto the stone tiles that lead to a small set of damaged stairs, the fence itself is a potentially harmful decoration and the fact that the roof looks close to losing a few or several of its components does absolutely nothing to induce the severely needed discontinuation of her sudden negativity and growing apprehension.

The tall man leads her to the admittedly pertinent solid wooden door and she panics when he prepares to simply leave her without giving her any form of the articulate services she requested before accepting to perform her profession in this dilapidated excuse of an urban setting.

''Wait a minute,'' Sakura's voice is much less confident and effervescent than her usual enlivening tone, but the man turns around nevertheless, book in its place and watch ticking relentlessly.

''You can't just leave me like this!'' she almost loses her temper completely, clutching her luggage to her chest and struggling to fight the tears of frustration that are gathering in her glistening eyes. ''I was promised details on what I am supposed to do and a decent accommodation! I have no knowledge of the layout of this place, no acquaintances who live here, nothing! And… and besides, how are you going to just leave, when there are people like- like that out here! This is not what I agreed to!''

Had she not been a thirty year old woman, Sakura feels certain she would have allowed the tears to spill pleadingly. As it is, she whips out her phone threateningly, fully intent on informing her mentor, Tsunade, of the sheer disregard of signed documents this person – and, through him, the entirety of Konoha – is displaying, more than ready to abandon the mission and even sue the contractors: saviors are never to become casualties, and this is a lesson that has been drilled into her since medical school.

Her phone is completely dead.

''I'm afraid the costs of what you required were a little too high for our modest society,'' he says in the few moments Sakura takes to openly gape at her useless device and bite her lower lip in a pathetic attempt to cease its alarming trembles. ''But I can say that those who need you know where to come, and your neighbor here has quite the reputation of keeping troublesome individuals away.''

He turns on his heel immediately afterwards, eye crinkling in mock innocence. Before Sakura can catch up to him and engage in temperamental and borderline desperate hand-to-hand combat, he is gone with the flip of a page.

She slumps to the ground in the middle of the ruin she refuses to call a garden and runs her pale, long fingers through her rosy locks, internally cursing her sheer idiocy. She should have known.

There is no respect anymore in this world, no understanding, no consideration. People like her are rare and perfect for exploiting purposes. What possessed her to let Ino drive away after they said their goodbyes at the city entrance?

Sakura takes several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her raging thoughts and regrets, her beloved sense of rationality reminding her that her blonde best friend has promised to visit after a month. Konoha is located deep within what used to be the center of a battle formation, so she can easily put the pieces together and realize that the traces of turbulent radiations are going to completely ruin her chances of using any form of technology that needs a signal.

And the dreaded verdict of Sakura's brief contemplation is that she will need to endure this grotesque environment for the entirety of a month before any form of salvation will arrive.

She glances at her messily dropped large, red bags with displeased green orbs, hoping that at least her medical equipment is still intact. Her temper is at its peak and she is quite positive that she will jump at someone's throat and claw at their carotid if that individual causes her any more disturbances – regardless of the unfortunate soul being a relatively normal citizen or a genetically altered, untreated human being with questionable sanity.

Therefore, she does the only thing a proud, no-nonsense professional woman could do, namely grabbing her luggage with a huff and stomping towards the other half of the duplex, unbothered by the potential impoliteness of what she is about to demand from her momentarily unlucky neighbor. In her highly angered, impulsive state, if Konoha owes her, then every resident had better cater to her every whim and desire until the end of this dreadful month. To think she really wanted to move here and be helpful.

Throwing caution to the wind, she confidently knocks on the respective person's door with enough force to make the frail-looking object tremble in its hinges. To her chagrin, she is left waiting, the only sounds this haunting city makes being the constant ticking of its tall, mockingly stable horologe.

She punches the door harder than before, her senses tingling without a possible explanation, and, this time, she hears the soft noise of steps approaching. Even with a generously wide, heavy bag in her hand, she manages to lift her palm to hip level, assuming a standard annoyed position to further express her displeasure at being left waiting.

When the door opens to reveal a beautifully menacing dark-haired man about the same age as her, Sakura suddenly finds herself swallowing desperately in order to moisturize her very dry throat. He looks absolutely enchanting in his black jeans and inky shirt, and completely out of place for that matter – someone as gorgeous as him should not live in an unfinished, most likely dirty duplex.

He checks his watch impatiently and drowns her in an intense onyx stare. ''What?''

The stranger's sharp, scathing tone speaks for itself, and it is quite obvious he is neither fond of her disturbance, nor of her rather poignant stench of blood and vomit.

Sakura, however, is utterly unaffected by his discourteous behavior and merely lifts her suitcases to his eye level, as if they weren't already rather obvious on her athletic frame. Her face forms a scowl at the following unimpressed eyebrow lift he grants her body language.

''I am the Third Division volunteer you were expecting,'' the woman begins with a perilously fake, patient tone, completely aware of the fact the entire city has been announced of her arrival – after all, medics are technically fairytales in these parts of the world. This does nothing to mollify her, though, as she firmly believes that, if there is any hope for future normalcy, people must relearn to keep their word. And she won't stand being used and disrespected when she should receive at least a mild amount of gratitude and appreciation. ''Since your fellow citizens are incapable of providing what I specifically requested, I suppose you can at least help me settle in until I can leave,'' she says curtly, expectantly.

The stranger does not immediately respond, to her annoyance, and takes his time analyzing her from head to toe. He undoubtedly notices the signature spiral symbol on her now unclean white shirt and the proud insignia attached to it. Her black jeans are slightly torn in the knee area due to her previous fall and the boots she is wearing are tainted with dried blood. She doesn't look pretty.

Eventually, he scoffs and moves to shut the door in her face. ''Why would I help you?'' he expects no answer and his eyes widen only slightly when her foot effectively blocks the shutting door. She smiles almost sadistically.

''Now, I think we have a misunderstanding,'' Sakura says sweetly. ''I am planning to sue the higher-ups of this place. I'm sure you wouldn't want the tribunals in Suna to cause you any trouble, am I correct?''

He glares at her spitefully, her threat lingering in the heavy air. Judging by the way his residence looks, he cannot afford to pay any more taxes than he already does and they both know this. While Sakura smirks at her triumph, ignoring his angered expression completely, the man huffs and forcefully removes two of her backs from their place on her shoulders, beginning to walk in long strides towards her side of the building.

Sakura follows merrily, though she is negatively shocked by the fact that her entrance is unprotected by any form of lock.

When the stranger enters her temporary living quarters, the horologe releases a powerful gong before resuming its ticking.

The medic is immediately filled with a sense of disgust at the sight of the house's interior. She enters the unlit slim hallway reluctantly, frowning at the heavy coat of grime and dust that is covering the floor entirely. Her eyes manage to distinguish an equally bedraggled room at the end of the corridor, which she assumes is a tiny, unkempt kitchen. Two doors are situated on either side of the hallway and curiosity urges her to open them and peek inside.

On the left, she finds an agglomeration of rotten wood and ancient bed sheets, all forming a precariously unstable and highly unhygienic mattress in the middle of the room, its end pointing directly towards the door. A foggy open window keeps the air relatively acceptable and several objects lie forgotten on the floor. The head of a doll staring at her pointedly causes Sakura to shut the door and take several steps backwards to regain her composure.

On the right, the young woman is met with an insupportable stench of neglected excrements and the odious sight of a rusty toilet. She needs to cover her nose and mouth to prevent an imminent gagging reaction, especially when she notices the identically repugnant bathtub in the farthest corner of the room.

Her instincts urge her to run away, but she cannot stop herself from approaching the object cautiously, struggling to keep her gastric liquid inside her body and not spill it on the floor. She takes a look at what is inside of it, noting that the smell becomes stronger and stronger with each small, reluctant step she takes.

And she sees the dead green eyes of a decomposed corpse staring right back at her.

Sakura's scream is ear-shattering and she barely feels the strong body of a person easily keeping her on her suddenly very unstable feet. A low, irritated curse causes an uncomfortable vibration on the shell of her ear and the rosette remembers the existence of her 'companion'.

She doesn't have the time to ask any questions or even break down in front of her second encounter with death, since she is roughly thrown out of the bathroom with impressive force almost immediately. Her knees abandon her once the support is gone and Sakura stares up at her visibly irascible neighbor, who exits the dreadful room soon afterwards.

His annoyed onyx orbs find her pathetic small frame and helpless expression, and he rolls his beautiful eyes, an act Sakura is much too emotionally damaged to care about. However, when he drops her bags on the floor and prepares to take his leave, the medic instantly reacts, finding her strength and lunging mindlessly. She grabs his shirt hysterically as he attempts to pry her off, shouting venomous words. Eventually, the woman lets go on her own initiative, causing her temporary opponent to look a little nonplussed until he realizes what exactly she is now holding in her trembling hands.

Sakura frantically searches through the man's shabby wallet, her features forming a desperate grimace. When he finally reacts and he seems well-prepared to powerfully stomp on each and every rule of chivalry by completely obliterating her with his bare hands, the medic holds his identity card in his face threateningly, her breathing irregular and her entire body shaking.

''U-Uchiha Sasuke,'' she says his name with an unsteady voice, inwardly hoping she managed to read his personal data correctly in the one second she took to study the small object. ''I swear to Kami I'll ruin your life when I get out of this hell hole if you don't get me out of here right now and do something – I don't care what – to ensure my stay here is decent, because I seriously doubt you live in such conditions, with corpses in your bathtub!''

The silence that follows her uproarious outburst is deafening and Sakura becomes the victim of the most vicious glare a pair of human eyes could ever offer. She feels poverty glaring at her, and helplessness and suffering, but she stands on her wobbly feet nevertheless, the handsome stranger's empty wallet and rusty identity card gripped firmly in her hands, threateningly.

The sudden gong of the horologe startles Sakura while Sasuke remains impassive. Eventually, he scowls and releases a deeply malevolent noise from the back of his throat, grabbing the woman's luggage once again and walking in long strides towards the entrance to the ruined building.

Sakura follows swiftly, still untrusting despite the object she currently has in her possession. She feels incomparably better when she finally exits the grotesque house, but she gasps disbelievingly when she realizes that Sasuke is leading the way to his part of the sinister duplex. The traumatized woman stops dead in her tracks.

''You're taking me to live with you?!'' she exclaims, eyes the size of tennis balls and throat impossibly dry. She has never lived with a man before and this particular specimen, though admittedly delicious, is a complete stranger to her. Not to mention the fact that they are not even remotely friendly with each other.

Sasuke looks infuriated at her capriciousness and sends her a scalding look over his shoulder as he proceeds to open his door. ''_Your_ 'home' is a few steps to the left. It's not like I want you here,'' he accuses her with an irritated tone, his burning eyes lingering on the objects in her hands.

Sakura looks away from his onyx orbs, realizing that he has no other possibilities than to house her in his own home. She reluctantly enters the modest environment, somewhat relieved to realize that Sasuke's house is clean and the overall atmosphere is less grim than in her own. The design is the same, however, and she wonders where she is going to sleep – because she will never agree to sleep with him.

Briefly, Sakura muses that this is worse than the war itself: wherever they went, her squad was always treated with respect and their housing was quite decent. The gruesome sights existed only on the battlefield.

But this is incomprehensible.

''Are you done staring?'' Sasuke asks bitingly and Sakura realizes she has been eyeing the relatively white walls blankly while being lost in thought. She is about to huff and explain that she was just thinking, but a flash of black catches her attention and the woman curiously walks closer to the bedroom door.

Sasuke merely scoffs indignantly before stomping to the brown-painted kitchen, where he begins to rummage through several large cabinets.

Sakura pays him no heed and opens the door to reveal a midnight blue bedroom, with a decent-looking king-sized bed at the far end of the room. Though very modest, the place is neat and she supposes she might be able to tolerate living here for thirty days.

What surprises her, however, is the small child playing on the large carpet in the middle of the room. She has long black hair and she is currently kneeling in front of her dolls, her small back to Sakura. The medic realizes that she is Sasuke's daughter, because, even with the girl's back to her, the resemblance is uncanny.

Sakura's anger slowly dispels at the sight and she approaches the small child with gentle steps, unwilling to scare her. She also begins to develop the smallest sentiment of appreciation for the man she previously detested, because she is completely aware of the fact that raising a child during war and times of poverty and without a wife is a highly impressive feat – she has seen many abandoned souls in the various orphanages she has worked at.

Sakura touches the girl's shoulder lightly, crouching to be at eye level with her. The younger female doesn't look like she'll acknowledge her presence at first, but she slowly turns her head to the side. Forest green meets pitch black and Sakura marvels at how impossibly pale the girl is. She is quite unhealthily thin and her lips look chaffed and bitten, and Sakura frowns in pity. Usually, the children she sees nowadays possess this type of ghostly appearance.

''Hello there,'' the medic says in a genuinely soft tone. ''I'm Sakura. What's your name?''

The dark-haired little girl doesn't answer – she only stares at Sakura blankly for a while, before resuming her previous activities with a soft murmur. ''Tick tock, tick tock.''

Sakura's features form a confused expression before she starts wondering if the girl perhaps has a mental condition. ''Y-yes, of course,'' she stutters for a moment. The child eyes her again. ''Tick tock,'' her voice is firmer this time and the medic feels unexplainably uneasy.

The woman's following words are interrupted by Sasuke's palpably irritated yell and she quickly gets back on her feet and exits the bedroom, deciding not to threaten to sue him any longer – he has a daughter.

Immediately after she reenters the rather poorly lit hallway, Sakura is put face to face with the man's annoyed look and the disheveled simple mattress he is carrying over his shoulder. She doesn't have time to ask what it is for, because the odd-smelling object is forcefully thrown in her arms and Sakura understands that this will be her bed from now on. She sighs resignedly. ''Where…?''

Sasuke wordlessly points to a small corner next to the kitchen entrance, which looks acceptably clean and protected from air currents. Sakura forces herself to smile appreciatively – at least he is not sending her outside to sleep. ''Thank you.''

The man looks taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, especially when he feels his wallet and identity card being handed back to him. He grunts in response and gives her a questioning look that Sakura needs a few seconds to understand.

''Ah,'' she finally grins. ''It's Sakura.''

With that, she leaves and settles in her designated resting point, falling asleep to the sound of the ticking clock.

**Xxxxxx**

It's been a week and a half since Sakura's dreadful arrival in Konoha and she supposes that the overall stay is not nearly as bad as her first day was. Patients come to see her every day, to Sasuke's chagrin, and the medic does her best to help in any way she can. Her resources are scarce, so she contemplates organizing a reconstruction team when she gets back to the Third Division quarters, now that her initial anger and displeasure have more or less vanished.

Sasuke is as mysterious and silent as he's always been, but Sakura has noticed that he can be considerate from time to time, namely when the overall wellbeing of a person is concerned – he allows Sakura to treat patients in his house and he always refuses to let her help in cleaning the place or cooking.

Sakura never brought up his daughter in a conversation, since she is intelligent enough to put the pieces together herself: Sasuke's wife probably passed away during the war and the child has a condition Sakura suspects to be induced by past traumas. She sees the little girl often, however, and her behavior never changes: she always stares at Sakura with ghostly eyes and mutters 'Tick tock, tick tock'.

The medic sighs into her bitter coffee, trying to find a sane reason for the sheer uneasiness she always feels when around the little girl. She has spent countless hours – days, even – with ill children, but none have had such an effect on her senses before.

Shaking her head, Sakura glances out the rather foggy window, her emerald orbs connecting with countless raindrops. The weather has been quite unpleasant during the last few days, she muses, wondering just how many people are going to end up at the doorstep anyway, despite the unfavorable conditions.

Sasuke has reluctantly allowed her to use several of his drawers for her medical equipment, so she is always ready for potential patients. It is early morning on a Wednesday right now, and she knows that her temporary housemate isn't going to be home anytime soon – Wednesdays mean a full work shift for him, though Sakura never really managed to successfully find out what exactly his profession is.

Granted, she doubts he is very fond of her, though he does show the courteous amount of concern a relatively sane human would have for another. She's tried making up for her rude behavior and Sasuke doesn't glare at her as much, but he still won't talk to her unless absolutely necessary.

Sakura shrugs, not really caring about things that are none of her business anyway. She finishes her hardly delicious dose of caffeine and prepares for the day ahead, glad when she notices the bag of groceries on the black counter – at least she won't need to exit the safe environment for petty needs.

The rosette washes her fragile cup carefully, not using more water than necessary. She then turns towards the kitchen entrance, intent on using the bathroom for her morning routine.

Sasuke's daughter stands there, unmoving, her charcoal eyes following Sakura's every movement as her face remains pale and seemingly unfocused. She startles the older woman, who almost drops the cup she is holding.

''Ah, g-good morning,'' Sakura greets her with a highly nervous smile, placing her hand on her chest as a consequence of the sudden appearance of the little girl. The child says nothing, her white nightwear flowing softly with the small breeze that forms in the hallway. Her small hand is grasping the cold, plastic form of a doll she apparently loves to play with and her dark locks fall to the middle of her back in a cascade. ''Tick tock, tick tock.''

Sakura giggles in clear discomfort. ''Yes, yes, honey. Tick tock,'' she tries to say playfully.

The girl's stare hardens and she squeezes the doll so hard its head falls off, rolling at her feet. The medic's breath catches in her throat.

''Tick tock!'' she yells, overcome by a scorching anger that reflects in her eyes so powerfully Sakura can no longer meet her gaze. ''Tick tock!''

Her small feet begin making heavy steps towards the woman who is suddenly paralyzed in front of the child. Sakura feels she can no longer breathe and her ears are hurting with the shattering noises of the girl's shrill voice and a ticking that echoes quicker and quicker and-

''Sakura?''

When she opens her wet eyes, the rosette sees a completely different pair of onyx eyes that look confused and, to an extent, concerned. She realizes she has fallen off her feet and she is now leaning on the counter, her legs brought together almost painfully. Sasuke is hovering over her with a lifted eyebrow, his worn suitcase placed on the floor.

Sakura can't focus on him, however, not with the seething little girl at the kitchen door. She fights to see past him, pushing him away with surprising force, only to see no one standing where the child previously was.

The rosette exhales in sheer relief, breathing heavily to compensate for the lack of oxygen her lungs have received during the frightening encounter only minutes ago. Sasuke follows her movements confusedly before kneeling in front of her and searching the room with his eyes, looking for possible intruders. When he finds none, he looks perplexed. ''What happened to you?''

For a moment, Sakura is fully intent on informing Sasuke of his daughter's derailed behavior and ominous aura, but she soon decides against it – after all, he's her father. He obviously knows of her condition and perhaps he'll feel insulted if she tells him the little girl is proving to be quite unbearable.

As a result, the rosette simply shakes her head and forces herself to smile. ''Why are you back so early?''

If anything, Sasuke looks even more concerned. ''Sakura. It's the middle of the night.''

**Xxxxxx**

Ever since the highly discomfiting confrontation with Sasuke's daughter, Sakura has desperately tried to lessen their encounters, still having immense troubles comprehending that, the day it happened, she indeed lost nearly twenty-four hours of her life.

This knowledge alone is enough to make her shiver with cold sweat, especially because it is medically impossible for a human to remain unconscious for so many hours without an internal problem. Her self-consultation proved that her blood pressure was normal, her levels of sugar and proteins were balanced properly and, really, she was a healthy woman.

And just because she cannot explain this to herself and she is unable to ask her mentor for guidance momentarily, Sakura is anxiously awaiting the following day, because she is finally going to leave this city and send it the sufficient amount of help it needs.

Evening finds her feeling incredibly restless. She checks her watch every five minutes, since sleep eludes her completely. She wants to go away.

Admittedly, part of her agitation is caused by the fact that Sasuke left on a business trip to the other side of the city, leaving her alone with his daughter once more. She said her goodbyes to him this morning, promising to organize a better prepared squad to end their suffering and thanking him for everything he's done. Sasuke actually smiled a minuscule, grateful smile and hugged her for her words, and Sakura cannot help but grin at the memory – she would have never thought a person she personally threatened would become such a supportive friend.

The medic then sighs, wondering if the cursed hours are ever going to pass. She decides to go take a bath, hoping to be able to relax and even fall asleep. As she cautiously walks towards the bathroom, Sakura notices that the bedroom door is half open and she takes a look inside, her heart beating frantically.

The little girl is there, as always, kneeling on the carpet and playing with her various mutilated dolls. Sakura thinks she hears her murmuring 'Tick tock', but that may be just her vastly traumatized mind speaking.

She enters the bathroom quickly, locking the door afterwards. Eyeing herself in the large mirror on the wall, the rosette notices that she has lost quite a bit of weight during the time she spent there, her previously athletic structure having become a small, frail-looking silhouette. Her violet pajamas seem much larger now, and even her rosy locks have grown in length.

Exhaling softly, she approaches the white, old bathtub and turns the water on. Luckily, the water is sufficiently warm, so she swiftly removes her clothes and steps inside, enjoying the way her porcelain skin is caressed by the pleasant, welcome heat.

As the tub fills, she lets herself lie down, her hair slowly becoming damp and her eyes closing in relaxation. The continuous sound of pouring water is soothing her senses and, soon, she relaxes her muscles completely.

Sakura almost manages to rid herself of all negative thoughts, but then the door creaks open and her flight instincts erupt so powerfully her skin aches. She jumps, splashing water on the cold tiles on the floor in an attempt to cover her naked form. The little girl stands in the doorway, eyeing her pointedly with an ill-boding expression.

''Y-y-yes?'' Sakura stammers with a forced smile, bringing her knees to her chest and trying to protect herself from those searing onyx eyes. Those eyes that are so similar to Sasuke's, but don't resemble his in the slightest.

The child shuts the door loudly and tilts her head to the side. ''Tick tock.''

She then begins walking at an alarmingly fast pace towards Sakura, who feels her heart stop in her chest. The rosette attempts to leap outside the bathtub, but she screeches when the other girl grabs her hand in an iron grip a child should never possess.

''Tick tock.''

Sakura's hand burns where the girl grabbed her and she kicks and screams and tries to pull away, yet the small child's other hand moves to her neck with blinding speed, turning the woman's yells into sickening choking noises.

''Tick tock!''

Before Sakura can do anything to defend herself from the abnormal girl, she is forcefully pushed under the water and her head hits the bottom of the tub repeatedly, eyes watching the multitude of rosy bubbles escape her lips, ears bleeding with the force of her struggles, alarm clock screeching.

The water turns into tears and tears become crimson blood, fingers clawing through the skin of her neck and into the warm flesh of her throat, pulling out veins and flesh relentlessly, only to return more fiercely and rip out her very tongue through her wounds, claws scratching and slashing the warmth out of her until she becomes a memory of a foolish woman, dead green eyes staring at the life she's lost in perfect symmetry.

And the clock ticks no more.

**Xxxxxx**

Sunday finds a blonde woman weeping over the grave of her best friend and a dark-haired man staring disbelievingly at the beautiful image of a lively emerald-eyed medic that is attached to the cold stone. They both wonder how and why, and a police officer smokes his cigarette calmly, the only evidence that he is, in fact, doing his job being the bored questions he asks.

''Was there anyone else with her in the house?''

Sasuke dazedly shakes his head. ''No.''

''Are you sure? Not even a friend, something?''

The dark-haired man scowls, irritated. ''I don't have anyone. My girlfriend died during the war and left me no children. Same with my friends.''

As Sasuke moves to try and comfort Sakura's thoroughly destroyed best friend, the police officer shrugs and walks away, lighting another cigarette. ''I'll report this as another stray hound incident,'' he declares, going over the documents that describe the victim's wounds.

In the cemetery, the only sounds that remain are Yamanaka Ino's shattered wails and the loud, ominous gongs of the city's horologe.

_**Fin**_


End file.
